MY WIFE IS A STRIPPER
CHAPTER SEVEN
The months flew by as I settled into my new job at the company. It was a refreshing change from the tense atmosphere at home, and I quickly made acquaintances with my colleagues. My students, both the employees and their children in the holiday classes, warmed up to me as well. Teaching them was rewarding, and I found myself enjoying the sense of purpose and fulfillment that came with the job.
One of my colleagues, Nicolas, announced that he was getting married to Clara, another coworker. The news spread quickly, and the entire office buzzed with excitement. I was thrilled when Nicolas asked me to be one of his groomsmen, and I eagerly accepted. It felt good to be included, to be part of something that brought so much joy to everyone.
Amidst all the wedding preparations, I couldn’t help but notice the attention I was receiving from some of the women at work. One girl in particular seemed determined to win me over. She showered me with gifts, relentless in her pursuit, but despite her efforts, my heart was set on someone else Cilia.
Cilia was everything I admired in a woman: beautiful, intelligent, and kind. She had a quiet grace about her that drew me in, and I found myself thinking about her more than I cared to admit. But for now, my focus was on Nicolas and Clara’s wedding, which was fast approaching.
The night before the wedding, the groomsmen gathered for a party thrown in Nicolas’s honor. It was a lively event, filled with laughter, drinks, and camaraderie. As the evening wore on, one of our friends, in the spirit of celebration, ordered a stripper to entertain us. The room erupted in cheers when she arrived, dressed provocatively, her face hidden behind a mask.
She began her performance, moving gracefully to the music. The men hooted and hollered, enjoying the show, but something about her seemed off to me. Her movements were skilled, but there was a certain nervousness in the way she carried herself. I watched closely, my curiosity piqued.
As the performance continued, I found myself unable to shake the uneasy feeling that gnawed at me. The stripper’s body figure, the way she moved, and even the way she glanced around the room seemed eerily familiar. My heart pounded as a thought crossed my mind could it be Patricia?
“No, that’s impossible,” I told myself. But the more I watched her, the more convinced I became that it was her. My mind raced as I tried to rationalize what I was seeing. Patricia, my uncle’s wife, a stripper? It didn’t make sense, yet the resemblance was undeniable.
When the performance ended and the men cheered, she quickly gathered her things and made her way toward the bathroom. The others were too caught up in the excitement to notice, but I couldn’t let it go. I had to know for sure.
I discreetly followed her, my heart p******g in my chest. The hallway was dimly lit, and I stayed a few steps behind, making sure not to alert her to my presence. When she reached the bathroom, she slipped inside, and I waited a moment before approaching.
As I neared the door, it was slightly ajar, and I could see through the small opening. I hesitated for a moment, but the curiosity was too strong to resist. Slowly, I peeked through the gap, careful not to make a sound.
Inside, I saw the stripper remove her mask, and my worst fears were confirmed it was Patricia. She stood in front of the mirror, wiping sweat from her face and adjusting her hair. Her expression was one of relief, but also tension, as if she were trying to shake off the stress of what she had just done.
My breath caught in my throat as I realized the gravity of what I had just witnessed. Patricia had no idea that I was watching her, no idea that her secret was now exposed to me. I stepped back slowly, my mind reeling with the implications of what I had seen.
The woman who had once tried to seduce me in her home was now living a double life as a stripper, and I was the only one who knew. The weight of this secret pressed down on me as I quietly retreated, slipping away before she could notice.
TO BE CONTINUED
